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been very clever to get out of that. Tell me about it! And my
mother? Where is mother? Tell me about mamma.’
Thenardier replied:—
‘She’s well. I don’t know, let me alone, and be off, I tell
you.’
‘I won’t go, so there now,’ pouted Eponine like a spoiled
child; ‘you send me off, and it’s four months since I saw you,
and I’ve hardly had time to kiss you.’
And she caught her father round the neck again.
‘Come, now, this is stupid!’ said Babet.
‘Make haste!’ said Guelemer, ‘the cops may pass.’
The ventriloquist’s voice repeated his distich:—
‘Nous n’ sommes pas le jour de l’an, ‘This isn’t New Year’s day
A becoter papa, maman.’ To peck at pa and ma.’
Eponine turned to the five ruffians.
‘Why, it’s Monsieur Brujon. Good day, Monsieur Babet.
Good day, Monsieur Claquesous. Don’t you know me, Mon-
sieur Guelemer? How goes it, Montparnasse?’
‘Yes, they know you!’ ejaculated Thenardier. ‘But good
day, good evening, sheer off! leave us alone!’
‘It’s the hour for foxes, not for chickens,’ said Montpar-
nasse.
‘You see the job we have on hand here,’ added Babet.
Eponine caught Montparnasse’s hand.
‘Take care,’ said he, ‘you’ll cut yourself, I’ve a knife
open.’
‘My little Montparnasse,’ responded Eponine very gen-
tly, ‘you must have confidence in people. I am the daughter
of my father, perhaps. Monsieur Babet, Monsieur Guelemer,